


Are you calling me a sinner?

by jadeparabatai



Category: The Infernal Devices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M, One Shot, Parabatai Bond, Suicide, i used the word parabatai 17 times in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:21:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25142296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadeparabatai/pseuds/jadeparabatai
Summary: What is one more sin, compared to all that he's done?
Relationships: Jem Carstairs & Will Herondale, Jem Carstairs/Will Herondale
Comments: 9
Kudos: 43





	Are you calling me a sinner?

**Author's Note:**

> TW // suicide 
> 
> The title comes from [Stigma](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BQ7vGQn5GzA/) by V (of BTS)
> 
> English is not my first language, so there may be mistakes. (what are tenses. my eng lit teacher would be so disappointed.)
> 
> In this AU, Tessa/Mortmain/automatons don't exist.

_“Are you calling me a sinner?”_

* * *

Jem tries so hard to hide it, but Will notices _. Of course_ , he notices. 

He sees the way Jem grows paler every day, the way his eyes have a strange silver sheen. He sees the way Jem’s grip on his cane shakes, and the way he stumbles like a marionette doll with his strings cut. Will sees the splatter of blood on his handkerchief. He sees how much his parabatai is suffering. He sees his pain. 

Jem tries so hard to hide it, to pretend he is fine. But he’s not. 

Everyone knows it. He sees the pitying glances from the London enclave. He sees them shake their heads and mutter about their foolishness on becoming parabatai. 

But Will says nothing. He plays along with Jem on their facade that everything is fine. He jokes and makes Jem laugh. They go demon hunting together. Even though they both know that he’s not fine (Jem had to up his dose of _yin fen_ , and Will’s been going to the supplier more frequently), they pretend. 

It tears him up inside, kills him to imagine a world where Jem is gone. Where Jem is dead, and he has no parabatai. He wants to shake Jem’s shoulders and demand that he rest. He wants to summon demons and warlocks for a cure. He wants to march up to the angel Raziel and demand Jem’s life back.

But he doesn’t.

It’s not what Jem wants. Jem is pure _goodness_ ; He is ten times the man he will ever be. Jem wants to live and serve with honour until his last breath. He wants to go with grace and a blade in his hand. 

He makes Will promise not to look for a cure. ( _There is no cure._ )

So even when Jem collapses and Will has to run to get him the drug, even when Jem talks deliriously about the wheel of life, he says nothing. 

He smiles and prays that it is enough.

* * *

It gets to him sometimes. 

Late at night, when Will is sitting by Jem’s bed when Jem’s hand is so cold in his own. He can’t help but think of the curse. 

He knows it’s not the curse; Jem’s been sick even before he met Will.

But he can’t help but think. _Is it my fault? Is it my fault for loving him?_

After the curse took his sister, after he ran away from home and ended up on the doorsteps of the London Institute, he’s done everything he can to guard his heart. He builds a wall of ice and thorns as to not love anyone. To protect them from himself. 

He refutes Charlotte’s warm support and mocks Henry’s inventions. He sneers at Jessamine, even though he knows she is hurting inside. He walks through London breaking everyone’s hearts with his charming smiles and mocking eyes. He keeps his heart locked and guarded.

The only exception is Jem.

In all those years, the only person he has allowed to capture his heart is Jem. Jem, who sees the worst in him and still loves him. Jem, the only light in his life. _Who is Will Herondale, without his Jem Carstairs?_

He is selfish in loving Jem.

Late at night, he remembers Jem’s lips meeting his. He remembers the way his cheeks had flushed. The way Jem had looked at him dazedly through his lowered eyelashes. He remembers Jem leaning closer, his lips soft and sweet. 

_Was it his fault?_

Everyone knows that loving one’s parabatai romantically is forbidden. Nobody knows why. But everyone knows about what happened to Silas Pangborn and Eloisa Ravenscar. 

For Will, his love for Jem can’t be described as something as trivial as a romance. It’s much deeper and consuming. Jem is his everything, his world. His great sin. 

But on nights when Jem is coughing up blood, on nights when the sickly sweet smell of _yin fen_ clogs his lungs, he blames himself. 

* * *

Every day, Jem gets sicker. 

And sicker. 

And sicker. 

Every day, Will has no choice but to watch his parabatai slip further and further from his grasp. 

* * *

He says to Jem that he’s going to a bar to get a drink.

Instead, he makes his way over to Magnus Bane’s townhouse. He loiters around the warlock’s doorstep, gathering up the courage. On most nights, he merely splashes some beer on his sleeves and returns to the Institute. 

Hope is a dangerous thing. 

* * *

Jem kisses him again. 

This time, his eyes are clear of the drug. This time, his skin isn’t feverishly hot and his shoulders aren’t shaking. This time, he is smiling ever so gently at Will. 

Will can’t help himself. 

* * *

After Jem has fallen asleep, Will runs. It’s raining outside and he doesn’t even have a hat on, but he runs. The rain falls wet in front of his eyes like tears. 

He runs and runs and runs until he is at the warlock’s doorstep. 

_“I’m here on my own account. I need your help. There is— there is absolutely no one else that I can ask”_ he begs. 

Magnus Bane is kind enough to let him in.

* * *

The next morning, when Jem asks why his skin is so cold, the lie comes easy to him. 

Jem’s smile is sweet and his kisses are sweeter. 

* * *

They don’t say anything to each other, Will and Jem. They don’t need to. 

Others in the Institute don’t say anything either, not even Jessamine. They go on as if nothing has changed between the parabatai. 

It’s a relief, but Will still sees the way their eyes turn sad when they look at Will and Jem. 

* * *

Hope is a dangerous thing. 

Magnus summons demons after demons, but they don’t find the demon that cursed him. They are all either the wrong shape or the wrong size, or the wrong shade of blue. 

A particularly disappointing demon with skin ten shades too green even wishes him luck. 

Magnus tells him to have hope. He tells him there are countless blue demons and that in time, they’ll find that demon.

Time is the one thing they don’t have.

* * *

Jem gets weaker.

And weaker.

And weaker. 

* * *

Jem says that the world is a wheel, that they’ll rise and fall and do it over and over again.

Will just prays he is enough in this lifetime.

* * *

On nights when he is not summoning demons with Magnus, he tries to spend as much time as he can with Jem. They train and patrol and investigate together. They make a perfect pair, a fierce parabatai in battle. They walk along the park and Will makes a fuss about the ducks that make Jem laugh. They sneak into a mundane theatre, so Jem can listen to a famous violinist play.

His favourite moments are time spent alone in Jem’s room. Sometimes, Jem plays his violin. Sometimes, Will reads aloud his favourite books to him. Sometimes, they just lay together in silence and enjoy each other’s company. 

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

* * *

(Will’s eyes are closed. He doesn’t see the lone tear fall on Jem’s face.)

* * *

Magnus looks unsurprised when he sees Will push past the subjugate, but his eyes widen when he takes in his torn and bloodied arm. 

Will brandishes the wound on his arm, where a single white tooth is embedded. _“You can use it, right? To summon the demon?”_

He yanks the tooth free. The blood drips down onto Camille Belcourt’s carpet. 

Magnus looks weary but he doesn’t turn him away. 

Will’s heart gives a painful pang, but he ignores it and chalks it up to his wounds. He draws an _Iratze_ on himself; it does little to heal the pain. Magnus hastily draws a pentagram and begins chanting. When his blood drips into the circle, blue flames rise. Magnus backs out of the pentagram and throws in the tooth still stained with Will’s blood. 

A blue demon emerges into shape inside the circle. It’s short and reptilian, with bright blue scales and scarlet eyes. It has a long, yellowish barbed tail with a stinger on its end and a missing tooth. It is the demon from the Pyxis.

_“ Who summons the demon Marbas? ”_

Will watches anxiously as Magnus interrogates the demon. He feels as though a storm is brewing inside, threatening to break and tear him apart. 

And then.

 _“ The curse was false. Your sister died because I struck her with my stinger. There has never been a curse on you, Will Herondale. Not one put there by me._ ”

_No._

_NO._

He stumbles backwards. His hands tighten on his stomach as if he will fall apart. “No, it isn’t possible,” he hears himself say. His ears ring. 

It’s as if the wall he built around his heart comes crumbling down. All those years he has pushed others away, all those things he has done, are for a false curse. He brought so much pain for his parents, his sister, Henry, Charlotte, all because he was stupid enough to believe in a lie. 

Magnus banishes the demon in a surge of red flame. It’s screams echo. 

Will collapses on the floor, clutching his heart. He feels faint. _“My whole life wrecked, destroyed...”_

Magnus crouches next to him. “You are only eighteen now, Will. _You can’t have wrecked a life you barely lived._ You have Charlotte, Henry, Jem. Hell, even Jessamine. You have your family.”

Charlotte. Henry. Jem. Jessamine. His family.

Suddenly, Will throws his head back and starts laughing. He can’t seem to stop laughing. His shoulders shake. 

And if a few tears roll down his cheeks, Magnus is kind enough not to say. He smiles and pats his shoulder. “You have a whole life in front of you, Will Herondale. Now get out of my house and _live_.” 

* * *

_Pulvis et umbra sumus._

_We are dust and shadows._

* * *

Will is still laughing when he gets back to the Institute. 

It’s as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. He’s free now, free from the curse. Euphoria spreads through his veins; he can’t seem to even feel the pain from the wound. 

“Where have you been?” Sophie’s voice is sharp. Her eyes are suspiciously red. 

Will grins. “Well, dear Sophie—” 

“It’s Mr Carstairs. It’s Jem, he’s not well and the silent brothers—” 

Even before Sophie finishes her sentence, Will is running. 

He bursts into Jem’s bedroom. The door slams and startles Charlotte, Henry and Jessamine standing to the side. Charlotte’s hands are clenched to the sides of her dress. A silent brother is standing by the bed, his hooded head bowed. 

“Will!” Charlotte moves to stop him, but Will brushes past her. 

Jem’s violin leans against the foot of his bed. His parabatai lies still on the bed, propped up by several pillows. There is no colour in his pale face. He’s so thin, all hollow and bone. His skin has a bluish tint to them, and they are cold to touch.

His parabatai, so cold and so frail. So still. 

At once, his euphoria fades into nothingness.

“Jem?” he touches his cheek gently. Jem does not respond. 

“Will,” Charlotte says. “We tried to give him more drugs and the Silent Brothers have tried but nothing’s worked. We don’t think he’ll... Will, I don’t think Jem will recover.”

His heart sinks. 

“I— there must be something we could do!” he says wildly. “ _There must be something we could do!_ ”

“We have tried, but none of our remedies has any effect. There is nothing to be done, Will Herondale” the Silent Brother’s voice echoes in his head.

His legs give out, and he collapses by Jem’s bed. 

_His Jem. His parabatai._

He had known it was inevitable. He had known when he made his vows that Jem would die before him. He had known, but it did little to prepare him. It was still so early, and Jem was too young. 

He kneels by his parabatai’s side. He barely notices the others leaving. The others all leave. Jessamine gives him a handkerchief before she leaves, a rare gesture of kindness.

He holds Jem’s hands. They are cold and still in his hands. 

How stupid he was. He was so focused on the curse that he didn’t see just how close the psyche was in Jem’s shadow. For a moment, he had so badly wanted to believe breaking the curse would stop the clock. How blind he was. Here his parabatai was, fading away before his eyes. 

Jem’s hand twitches. 

“Jem?” whispers Will. Jem’s eyelashes flutter before he weakly opens his eyes. Jem moves to sit up and collapses into coughs. 

“No, don’t get up,” Will says. He helps Jem lie back down and wipes away the blood off his hands. 

“... I don’t have much time left, do I,” he says. When Will tries to protest, he shakes his head. “I know I don’t.” Even though his body fails, his voice stays strong.

For a moment, they are silent. 

“I forgive you,” Jem says. “For everything you’ve done. I know that you are a better person than you think you are. I know you believe you deserve to be punished, and you won’t forgive yourself. But I forgive you.” 

“Jem—”

“I know you, Will Herondale. I know who my parabatai is,” Jem touches the run on his shoulder. “And I know that as always your heart is twinned with mine. Our souls are intertwined, even as death parts us.”

“ _For whither thou goest, I will go._ That’s what we promised!” 

“ _You cannot go where I am going! Nor would I want that for you!”_ Jem exclaims.

“I have always loved you and will always love you. And long after my heart has stopped beating and my eyes have lost sight, I need you to be what I cannot be. Be my heart, my hands, my eyes. Live, as though I am with you.” 

_“ No,”_ Will felt tears run down his face. “No. I won’t be that for you. Y _our eyes will see, your hands will feel, your heart will continue to beat_.” 

“My time is up. We live and die over and over again. In another life, we’ll be together again. Now, I must leave you. We had a good run, didn’t we?”

 _“ I can’t leave you to face death alone,_ ” Will whispers. 

_“ I am not alone. Wherever we are, we are as one_.” With the last of his strength, Jem clasped Will’s hands, as they had done during their parabatai ritual. “Will. My Will.”

Jem’s hand stills.

Will gives a cry of anguish. The pain he felt before is nothing compared to the pain he feels now. Now it feels like his whole world is shattering, now that his parabatai is gone. 

Will tears open his shirt. The parabatai rune, the one Jem had drawn all those years ago in the Silent City has faded, only the outlines of the sacred rune left. Gone, like Jem. 

Jem had said he didn’t wish Will to waste away his life, but Will is too weak. Who is he, without Jem. How can he live on without his parabatai by his side?

He had once said Jem was his great sin.

What is one more sin, compared to all that he’s done?

His hands shake but his grip is firm. Will drives the blade deep into his heart, just below the rune. 

_“ For whither thou goest, I will go_.” 

The knife drops onto the wood floor with a clutter. As blood drips down, Will clasps Jem’s hands.

_“Jem. My Jem.”_

* * *

_“Ave atque vale, James Carstairs and William Herondale”_

**Author's Note:**

> 03_03_21 Edit: minor spelling edit. 
> 
> Find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/jadeparabatai) and [tumblr](https://jadeparabatai.tumblr.com/) ♡


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